DAILY FEATURED PHOTOS
SUNDAY, JULY 27, 2025
PAGE 42
PHOTOGRAPHY BY ANDREW ZABACK
THE OFFICIAL NEWSPAPER OF EAA AIRVENTURE OSHKOSH
EAA.ORG/AIRVENTURE TOP STORY
PHOTOGRAPHY BY ANDREW ZABACK
BY HAL BRYAN AIRVENTURE TODAY STAFF
ROCKING YOUR WINGS, and landing on the dot. Powered parachutes drifting gently overhead. The taut fabric of a biplane’s wings glistening with dew at dawn. The proud lines of an airplane born not in a factory but in a family garage. Afterburners shattering the sky with the thunder of modern military might. Classic fighters weaving a symphony of Merlin music and radial rumbles in honor of those giants on whose shoulders we all stand. A century of airships celebrated, and lost friends
fondly remembered. Corkscrews of smoke oil, and black sky turned brilliant with fire. Souvenirs bought, and swag collected. Tireless volunteers appreciated, grounds picked clean of trash, storms respected and weathered. Morning doughnuts, soft serve ice cream, burgers, brats, and cheese curd tacos, popcorn and a movie under the stars. Perhaps most importantly, finding or refreshing friendships in the world’s most consistently reliable sea of serendipity. As we close out the week, it’s impossible not to reflect on what seven days and 1,400 acres of Wisconsin have brought,
and meant. This particular slice of time and geography is known by a litany of names — AirVenture, convention, the flyin, aviation’s family reunion, the World’s Greatest Aviation Celebration, or, to most of the world, simply Oshkosh. Some people wax a bit more literary, naming it after some fictional paradise like Brigadoon, Shangri-La, Galt’s Gulch, or maybe the land of Oz. None of these are incorrect, but none of them completely capture it, either. And that’s okay, because it can’t be captured; it can only be experienced. Trying to describe Oshkosh to someone
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who’s never been is like trying to explain happiness to a ham sandwich, or Bach to a brick. Today, the shimmering vision of whatever all of this is to you recedes into memory, and the population of this city of great myth gently scatters back to their other homes. As you emigrate, across the state or across an ocean, try to take a bit of that feeling with you, like a shiny shard of a broken mirror that can always and only be reassembled in Wisconsin in late July. If someone asks what it was like, you can try to describe it — but the only truly right answer is “see for yourself.”